It wasn't that long ago that I used to think that blogs were the most idiotic things on the 'net. Who the hell in his right mind would want to waste good computer time reading what Joe Anybody wrote to Dear Diary when he could be downloading smut? But, then again there are those recipe sharing kinds of ladies who send out the cutesy "You've got a friend!" e-mails to each other - the kind that you're supposed to send off to a bunch of other friends and then back to the person who sent it to you (who's so insecure that she needs the affirmation of getting her piece of drivel back to prove that she's not a big, fat, loser and nobody to everybody) - who never spend any time at all over here on the seedy side of the internet, so maybe they're the ones who read those blog things that people waste their time writing. Well, that's what I thought - before I discovered that there were smut blogs just jam packed with all sorts of good sex stuff! Ta dah! Here I am, taking advantage of the opportunity to write my own dirt, and shaking my head daily when I check the counter to discover that people are still actually reading this shit - er, I mean, my writings.
The folks who know me best know that I'm a static kind of a guy. I like things cut and dried for the most part. I like habit. I like schedules. I like predictability. I hate change. Spontaneity is occasionally OK, like when Dee calls in the afternoon to say, "Chinese buffet tonight!" when I already have a gray lump of pork thawing for supper, but for the most part I'd rather know what's going to happen in the next hour, day, week, ad infinitum. For years I've had my regular list of websites to visit on a daily basis, or at least as often as I can manage, and while I might follow an occasional link elsewhere, generally I don't because I know how easily I get led down many branches of transitory paths rather than concentrating on the porn at hand. Well, that's how I used to be, comfortably chugging along until these damned blogs came down the pike. Now I find myself at times surfing around like a California boy, riding the waves and figuratively splashing around in the online foam. Dude!
Last night I linked over to a "regular" blog - i.e., not a sex blog, and found myself liking it. Well, OK, I was enjoying it because it's written by a pretty college girl whose twinky boyfriend has tons of pictures of her in bikinis on his photography site - so it wasn't a totally innocent click after all - and after ogling her like the dirty old man that I am for a good while I clicked over to her blog thinking that maybe I'd find a little something about how she likes giving head or having her nipples tweaked. Folks, I don't think I could have found a person more unlike me than this young woman is if I'd seriously tried. She's a vegan, for heaven's sake! Hell, I'd marinate a T-bone steak in bacon fat then dip it one bite at a time in melted lard if it would enhance the flavor. She's all environmentalistic and about raising healthy, organic veggies in your own garden, saving the whales, and crap like that. I, on the other hand, concur with Genesis - "Fill the earth and subdue it." Not coddle it. Not make it all purty [sic] and sweet and homey, but bring it to its knees in submission with brute force in the form of oil spills, nuclear waste and what not. She's gorgeous - flat belly, shapely legs. And here I am - well, I won't go into great detail 'cause if you're a woman I'd like a shot at fucking you someday, but let's just say that I'm not all gorgeous with a flat belly and shapely legs, and that my tits are bigger than hers and maybe yours.
The weirdest thing happened, though, as I meandered through this young lady's thoughts and dug deeper into her writings. I felt a kind of giddy happiness in the very ordinariness of it all. In reading about the joy she felt in being at a friend's birthday party. In reading of her excitement at the prospect of baking some bread. In reading about how good she felt after an aerobics session. (Kind of like how I feel after finishing the last of the Dunkin' Donuts in the box.) I can't explain it at all, least of all to myself, how somehow she touched me with what she'd written about various facets of her life that I'd never want as parts of mine, and made me feel that we're kindred spirits in spite of having little in common beyond that we're both human. In peeking at her life through her words I felt - like that feeling you get sometimes as a parent when you're about to go running full tilt around a corner but stop dead in your tracks and have to bite your tongue so as not to laugh out loud when you spy your child doing something in an adorably precocious way that tells you that he thinks he's all grown up. It was - and here I use a word that I typically abhor because of its noncommital nebulousness - it was nice! There! I said it. It was NICE!
Lest I disappoint you, dear usual reader of my typical stream of consciousness straight from the dumpster, fear not. Remember it was seeing this young hottie in her bikini that led me to her blog, and all things considered - and sweet, warm feelings notwithstanding - I'd love to yank down her pants, lick her slit till it's all frothy, and then lie back to poise her lithe, toned body on my prong and encourage her to spin around on it like a well greased car on a Tilt-A-Whirl. Not the usual MILF who's in my fantasies, but what the hell! A little diversion now and then can be a good thing. Shhhhh! I didn't say that!